


INSURANCE POLICY

by hgdoghouse



Category: The Avengers - All Fandoms, The Professionals
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-19
Updated: 2011-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-26 06:57:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/280078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hgdoghouse/pseuds/hgdoghouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After surviving another operation Susie Bodie and Doyle consider their options.</p>
            </blockquote>





	INSURANCE POLICY

Preoccupied and silent, as they had been since their debriefing with Cowley, they started up the stairs leading to the fourth floor flat which had been allocated to them for the night. Unheated as yet, the air felt clammy and cold and smelt of dis-use. It took only a glance for them to sort out their priorities. While Bodie put on the central heating and unpacked the carrier bag of basic groceries they had been given, Doyle dumped their overnight bags and made up the bed.

Exhausted after thirty-eight hours on duty, they stared around their dingy accommodation, yet to remove their jackets.

"What now?" said Doyle, one shoulder propped against the wall for support.

"Bed," said Bodie, equally terse. "We'll talk in the morning. Later this morning," he amended, glancing at his watch.

"You checked the security system?"

"Twice," Bodie confirmed.

"Ah, it's not just me, then?"

Shaking his head, Bodie headed for the bedroom.

"We could split the watch," suggested Doyle, as he followed him.

"No point. If they want us that much, they'll take us," said Bodie, tucking his Smith & Wesson under the pillow. "But it'll cost 'em," he added, catching Doyle's eye.

"You have a lovely line in bedtime stories," noted Doyle, hanging his holster over one end of the pine headboard.

Taking turns in the bathroom, they slid into bed, their only comfort that of the warmth of each other.

oo0oo

Just before six a.m. they abandoned their pretence of being able to sleep. Rubbing his stomach, Doyle stood at the side of the net-curtained window, eyeing the grey sky and drizzle without enthusiasm as he waited for Bodie to vacate the bathroom.

Lurching through their early morning routine with barely more than a mumble of acknowledgement as they passed one another, they finally came to rest in the kitchen, silent as they searched out crockery and spoons.

"I can't say I fancy the idea of being terminated with extreme prejudice just to save some Whitehall mandarin from having to write a difficult report," remarked Doyle at last. Pouring them both a mug of tea, he automatically added a spoonful of sugar to his partner's.

The flow of cornflakes into Bodie's dish slowed to a trickle, then stopped. "Me, neither. But we're back on the side of the angels. We've even got our IDs to prove as much."

Doyle looked unimpressed. "Cowley gives and Cowley takes away. Yesterday wasn't the first time he's thrown us to the wolves."

"No," agreed Bodie colourlessly.

"Only yesterday there were bigger guns than Cowley's ranged against us. Money and politics, Bodie. They're trouble. We know too much. What if someone, somewhere, decides they want all the witnesses out of the way? Come to that, if everything's fine, what are we doing holed up in a safe house - and without backup?"

"Routine precaution, given that our addresses have been touted round the shadier parts of Whitehall."

"You think that's all that's behind it?"

"I enjoy a good conspiracy theory as much as the next man, but there are too many people involved for them to twep everyone," said Bodie, curling his hands round the mug he held, as if grateful for its warmth.

"Most of them don't know the whole picture. We do."

"We think we do," corrected Bodie. "When has Cowley ever told us everything?"

"Fair comment," allowed Doyle, propping himself against the side of the laminated drawers at the side of the sink. "But that doesn't exactly reassure me - or strengthen our position."

"Maybe not. But too many 'names' are in the know. Cowley for one."

"He must have some powerful enemies by this time."

Bodie looked up. "And some equally powerful friends. He'll be safe enough. He knows where too many bodies are buried."

"Lucky Cowley. Though we've tripped over a few ourselves. It's time to take steps," announced Doyle with decision. Staring at the swirl of tea in his mug, there was a grim set to his mouth as he put down the teaspoon.

"What kind of steps?" asked Bodie with caution. While he was prepared to concede that Doyle was the ideas man of the team, not all his ideas were good.

"The kind that will keep us alive. Nobody's going to twep me and get away with it."

Hearing that familiar note of belligerence, Bodie gave his first grin in almost thirty-seven hours. "Haunt them, would you?"

"Take them with me, more like."

Bodie's mouth thinned; there was a fierce, cold light in Doyle's eyes. "You're a vindictive little bastard - I'm glad to say. How do you suggest we cover our backs?"

"As I see it, we've go three options."

"So many?"

Doyle ignored the sarcasm. "You won't like them," he warned, sitting down and helping himself to one of Bodie's cornflakes. His crunch had an ominous sound of finality.

"I like Operation Susies even less."

"Yeah." Doyle crumbled the next cornflake he stole to a fine powder between his fingers. "I finally lost my virginity yesterday. After all these years."

Bodie understood the mixture of disillusion, chagrin and anger all too well. "I know, mate. It caught me on the hop, too," he offered, as a gesture of solidarity: it also happened to be true. "It's what comes of spending so much time with you. I never used to be this trusting."

"Might have known it would be my fault," said Doyle, touching him briefly on the shoulder.

Covering his hand for a moment, Bodie looked up. "Cowley explained more than he usually does at a debriefing."

"Didn't he just. Did you believe him?"

Picking up the bottle of milk which sat on the table between them, Bodie poured a generous amount over his cornflakes, but made no attempt to start eating. "Up to a point," he said finally. "It was what he didn't say that worries me."

Staring at the surface of his tea again, this time noticing the tiny blobs of white caught around the edges of the mug, Doyle got up and poured the contents down the sink. Sniffing the bottle of milk, he pulled a face before washing it down the plug with quantities of water. "Milk's gone off," he announced, relieving Bodie of his now soggy cornflakes.

Sitting back in his chair, Bodie's brooding gaze remained on the table top. "Symbolic, that. Not least because it took us so long to realise. D'you reckon Cowley's gone the same way?"

"No. Cowley's many things, but for sale isn't one of them. Unless he had to do a deal to save the Squad, of course," added Doyle, his tone matter of fact. "At the moment he's caught between a rock and a hard place - whether he admits as much to us or not. He'll do whatever he has to do to keep the Squad going. That means we're out."

"He's backed us in the past."

"And he's dumped others without a qualm. Remember Morgan? His only crime was to have a wife with mob connections."

"It wasn't that simple."

"Maybe not, but given that a bloke's supposed to be innocent until proved guilty, how come Morgan got the chop?"

"That rule's never applied to Squad members, and you know it. But you're right." Swivelling round, Bodie hooked open the door to the fridge. "No more milk," he announced.

"Black coffee, then," said Doyle, taking down two clean mugs. "It might help me wake up."

"Not easy, given that neither of us got any sleep," said Bodie wryly. "We should've taken shifts after all. You said we had three options. Okay, appal me. What are they?"

"One: we pretend nothing's changed."

"Has it?"

Doyle did not even blink. "It has for me. In more ways than one. Yesterday sorted out my priorities a treat - keeping you and me alive and kicking is top of the list. I'll put my life on the line for a lot of things, but not so that one of our own - or nearly, I mean you can't actually call the MI5 mob human - can top me because it's politically expedient."

"Okay, I'll give you that one. Scrap option number one."

"Two: we resign. Preferably just leave, disappear. Retire to keep bees in Sussex."

"Eh?"

"Never mind, Watson. The main thing is that we get out while we have a choice. We get so far undercover that even CI5's best - which is us, of course - can't find us."

"Leave to do what?" asked Bodie, more in the spirit of friendly inquiry than combat.

"Live. I haven't thought further than that yet."

"Fair enough. What's your third option?"

"It's not so much an option as a necessity. We arrange some insurance."

"No company would touch us," dismissed Bodie.

Doyle gave an audible sigh. "Not _that_ kind. Cowley's kind. Take a leaf out of the Old Man's book. Over the years we've learnt a fair bit about the politics of power. Who has a skeleton tucked away, and where. Only now we gather hard evidence to back it up and we stash it away somewhere no one else can get to."

"Your wallet's as good a place as any."

Ignoring a familiar slander, Doyle opened a packet of biscuits, taking two before pushing them over to Bodie. "Then we tell Cowley what we've done," he said, his voice muffled by the mouthful he was chewing.

"And having lit the blue paper, we run like hell," added Bodie realistically.

"That is one of the drawbacks," Doyle conceded, dragging a reluctant grin from his partner.

It faded quickly, Bodie's mouth hardening. "You left out an option," he said, in a tone Doyle hadn't heard him use since the day Marikka had been murdered. We could take Cowley out." For all the emotion in his voice, he might have been discussing the weather.

Doyle heard him out with no sign of surprise. "The thought did occur to me," he acknowledged. "But there isn't any point. Killing Cowley won't guarantee we stay alive, and it could well have the opposite effect."

"There aren't any guarantees in our line of work."

"Except those we make to each other," said Doyle without emphasis, his unblinking gaze on his partner's face.

The hard look left Bodie's eyes, his hand briefly touching Doyle's. "A man's got to have one certainty in life," he agreed.

Relaxing to a degree, Doyle gave a mock-frown. "I'm not sure I like being taken for granted," he mused.

"No?" smiled Bodie.

"Stop distracting me or we'll never settle anything," grumbled Doyle, without much conviction. "Besides, we both know topping Cowley isn't an option. I'm no assassin. And there's no point you pretending you could polish him off - whatever he did," he added with asperity. But it was proof of Bodie's mental state that he would consider testing him in such a fashion.

"Sentiment will be your downfall," said Bodie, but he made no attempt to deny the obvious, his tone apologetic. "We'd better start packing, then. After we've written our letters of resignation."

"You want to make it official?"

"No, what I'd like is to turn the clock back a week. Be realistic, Ray. If the faceless wonders really want us, we wouldn't have a chance of vanishing. Not for good. Or only if we split up. Besides," Bodie shrugged, "if we make it official we won't bugger up our pensions."

"Yeah, worrying about your pension's always been a major preoccupation of yours," agreed Doyle. Sitting back in his chair, his eyes narrowed. "You've just thought of another option, haven't you?"

"Yep."

"God, I hate it when you get that look," sighed Doyle, trying to sound hard-done-by. "It's always a sign I'm going to be dropped right in it. What's the master plan, then?"

Bodie gave him a two-fingered salute and took a swig of cooling coffee. "This tastes disgusting," he complained, before he waved a placating hand when Doyle gave him an irritable look. "My plan's fool-proof."

"I must have a word with you about modesty some time. Is there any chance of you sharing it with me some time this century?" inquired Doyle, eating another biscuit.

"Prepare to be amazed. It's simple enough."

"Any plan of yours would have to be," said Doyle unkindly. "Pax," he added instantly, when Bodie lifted his mug in mock threat.

"Chicken. Are you sitting comfortably? I only asked. Right, we go in and see Cowley. We tell him our near collision with the Pearly Gates yesterday made us realise a few home truths. We admit that we're lovers - like it's all been a big surprise to us - and tell him we intend to live together."

"And if he doesn't have a coronary before you're halfway through that speech?"

"Are you kidding? It'd take more than that to shock the Old Man. Besides, he'll be too busy kicking us off the Squad. In fact, you'd better clear anything you want out of your locker and desk before we see him. I don't see us getting much chance afterwards."

"Me, neither," agreed Doyle glumly.

"Cheer up, sunshine."

"Give me one good reason I should."

"There's always me," said Bodie.

Doyle's smile was reflected in his voice. "So there is. Okay, Cowley kicks us off the Squad so fast it makes our heads spin. How does that help anything - except his budget?"

"Think about it," Bodie urged him. "It gives everyone the perfect out. Our announcement gives everyone the excuse they want to get rid of us _and_ to keep their hands clean. Cowley might be a devious old scrote, but I can't see him wanting us twepped if there's an alternative. Whitehall can relax because no one would take seriously anything said by two gays who've just been dismissed. Which leaves us to do...whatever we like. Be grateful for discrimination, it's going to save our bacon. Meanwhile, we've still got our insurance, just in case we need it."

Doyle's eyes widened. "We have?"

Bodie gave him a look of open affection. "I was never as trusting as you, mate. I've got a few bits and pieces stashed away. Started collecting them after Willis set me up. It was for both our benefits," he added gruffly. "If _I_ could get caught so easily, I knew you wouldn't stand a chance. You're a simple soul at heart."

Doyle's mouth opened, but he swallowed his hot denial, partly because Bodie's claim held an element of truth, but more so he could give his full attention to Bodie's master plan. "While it's true no one would want two gays in the Security Services, never mind them openly living together, we're useful to Cowley. I reckon he's known about us ever since you first got your leg over."

"That's not a very romantic way of putting it," complained Bodie.

"Unless my memory's failing me, there wasn't much romance - not our first time, anyway," said Doyle, a reminiscent gleam in his eyes. "Stop side-tracking me. Where was I?"

"Cowley knowing about us."

"Right. And a fiver says he does. What if the devious old bastard decides to ignore the rules? He never hesitates when it suits him, and at the moment, we're useful to him."

"But what about in a few years' time? We'll have lost our edge. Then we're off the streets and he's stuck with us. Besides, thinking about his little pep-talk after the debriefing yesterday, he dropped the odd hint. Think about it."

Doyle ate another biscuit in silence while he considered the point.

"So he did," he allowed. "I must've been so hyped up I missed that. Could you live with being kicked off the Squad ostensibly because you sleep with me?"

Knowing what Doyle was asking, and what it cost him to parade his insecurity, Bodie's expression softened. "Not if that's all we did. If that was all there was between us. I'm not ashamed of loving you, and I'm buggered if I'm going to let anyone - even Cowley - change that. We knew we'd have to leave one day. We're just leaving a few years earlier than we thought, that's all. While civilian life may take a bit of getting used to, and you're far from perfect, no one's ever accused you of being boring."

"You daft... Come 'ere," said Doyle roughly, but his hands were gentle as he cupped Bodie's face. "Could be nice having more time to spend together," he allowed, just before he kissed his lover.

"Careful," Bodie warned gruffly, clearing his throat, "you'll be quoting poetry at me next."

"Stranger things have happened. D'you really think they'll come after us if we try and carry on as normal?"

Knowing that his partner didn't, even now, despite the lip service he had been paying to the idea, Bodie didn't hesitate. "Yes, I do. There are too many careers on the line if word of some of what Her Majesty's senior civil servants have been doing ever got out. No one ever imagined we'd get to the bottom of what was going on - if we did. One way or another, we're shafted. But my way, at least, we get a crack at living together."

Staring at nothing in particular, Doyle nodded. "Okay. We'll play it your way. I could get to like your plan. I'm fed up with keeping up our cover - I want to live openly with you. But you can break the glad tidings to Cowley. He'll take it better from you. We should get moving, you know. One way and another, it's going to be a busy day. We need to hire a car and get all the stuff from our flats packed - then we can have the fun of finding somewhere to live."

"A job would come in handy, too," Bodie remarked as he got to his feet, but if the thought troubled him, there was no sign of it in his voice.

"My brains, your brawn, I don't see how we can fail," said Doyle confidently. "I've got a bit saved. You won't starve."

"So have I. Speaking of food, let's go and get a decent breakfast before we do anything else. I'll need something more solid inside me than these biscuits when we see the Old Man. Sort everything else out after that. Most of my stuff's round your place, anyway," Bodie added realistically.

"I wouldn't mind some breakfast myself. You clear up here, I'll strip the bed and pack our bags," said Doyle, before he paused. "I wouldn't change anything, you know."

His face softening, one hand on Doyle's flank, Bodie briefly brushed Doyle's mouth with his own. "Yes, I do. Nor would I, sunshine. Nor would I."

 

oo0oo

His face more lined than usual after his sleepless night, a glass of malt in his hand despite the early hour, Cowley listened to the sounds of departure from the flat below that which he was occupying. In the silence which followed, he deactivated the listening devices, taking care to erase the tapes. It wouldn't do for certain portions of the conversation he'd been monitoring to fall into the wrong hands. Not everyone knew Bodie and Doyle as well as he did.

Glancing at his watch, he gave a satisfied nod, knowing he had plenty of time to get back to headquarters before the younger men arrived there. Setting the flat to rights with a deftness which might have surprised some of his agents, he went down to the car he had hired the previous day, packed the boot and began the drive back to his office.

Mentally reviewing the conversation he had been listening to, his bleak smile was tinged with both pride and regret. They'd learnt a lot from him over the years, but they still had a way to go.

But it was gratifying to know they hadn't underestimated him. Stationary in a traffic jam, he made the first of three telephone calls to confirm arrangements that he had put in hand the previous night, when it had become clear to him that, one way or another, he was about to lose his best team. While Bodie and Doyle's skills were lost to CI5, he could see no reason why they should go wholly to waste.

Giving a faint sigh of regret for the death two years before of his old friend Steed, Cowley wished he could be present when Bodie and Doyle met their new boss. Unless he was mistaken, Mrs Peel would teach them a thing or two.

 

THE END

**Author's Note:**

> Completed 29th November 1992
> 
> Published in _Chalk and Cheese 12_


End file.
